It seems he does not inherit the title. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. ‘I am sure you will. Whatever you need to do, it is your business. By a sort of instinct. He felt her observance and warmed to it. Wood.
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